Volume 3 Chapter 193 The Warrior Monk’s Work
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The moon hung low over the camp of the Black Panther tribe, resting just north of the cold Nordende River. The night was alive with raucous voices, yet the mood was strange—more a feast than the somber hush one would expect on a battlefield’s edge.
Only days ago, fifty warriors of the Black Panther tribe had launched a daring nighttime raid against their enemy. Fraus was among them. But out of those fifty fierce fighters—himself included—only he survived. Forty-nine warriors fell, alongside three hundred regular soldiers.
Tonight, the camp held a feast to mourn the fallen and to decide who would watch over the families left behind.
”Damn it…” Fraus muttered bitterly, alone in his tent, the rough wood walls closing in as he gulped from his horn cup.
His father, Arminus, was the strongest Beastmen warrior anyone had seen. Fraus had inherited that strength, carving his own reputation among the pack. Their clan was a pillar within the Black Panther tribe, respected and feared. Many warriors followed Fraus, not just by tribal law but by their own loyalty.
But the recent battle had shattered that strength. Most of their clan lay dead. Those who had stayed behind whispered blame in the shadows.
The tribe’s leader—never fond of Arminus or Fraus—seized the opportunity to treat them harshly, tightening his grip on the pack.
Before the raid, Fraus had been surrounded by comrades. Now, he was drinking alone.
”Tch.” Fraus clicked his tongue, realizing his honey mead jug was empty. He called out to his wives, but they were all busy helping with the feast, trying to keep their families’ names alive in the tribe.
Frustrated, he crushed the empty mug in his hand, the shards clattering to the floor.
”This isn’t funny!” he growled, glaring toward the campfire light spilling in through the tent flap, his yellow eyes burning with fury.
”We slaughtered three hundred regular soldiers! And we’ve always pulled our weight in the pack! So why are we treated like this?”
Grinding the mug’s remains under his boot, he gritted his teeth.
Just recently, his father had publicly scolded him in front of the family, ordering him to lay low for a while. Humiliation burned deep. Arminus probably thought he was teaching discipline, but Fraus couldn’t understand such coldness toward kin.
All the tribes—Steel Tigers, Cat Beastmen, Silver Wolves, Black Panthers—favored their own.
Yet Arminus clung stubbornly to strict ethics and order, acting as if family ties were weakness. Fraus hated that rigidity, though fear of his father’s wrath kept him silent.
”You let forty-nine warriors who trusted us die,” his father’s voice echoed in his mind.
”Do you even understand the gravity of this, Fraus?”
”I understand better than anyone!” Fraus spat into the empty tent, flicking the empty water jug off the table.
* * *
”Even if you don’t say it, I know best!” Fraus roared, shattering the delicate Eastern porcelain on the desk before him.
Damn it… he thought bitterly. Even if it wasn’t me, that magic sword user from Azrael—Natra—would’ve ruined any nighttime raid.
But Arminus refused to acknowledge Natra’s existence, dismissing her as a made-up excuse Fraus used to dodge blame.
Usually quick and cunning, Fraus found himself misunderstood. His father thought him a coward, someone shirking responsibility.
At the recent council, Natra was dismissed as a fabrication, and Fraus was left to carry the shame alone.
If only he had allies among the Wolfmen—he would have dragged them in to prove the truth.
”Calm down, calm down…” Fraus breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. “Losing my temper isn’t like me. I’m not like those fools making noise outside. I’m the invincible one—the transcendent. The wise leader who will guide the pack’s future.”
Arminus couldn’t unite the pack; the current chief was a fool. Fraus knew he was the rightful next chief.
His precarious position was only temporary.
If war breaks out, the truth about Natra will come out. And the foolish Black Panthers, the Steel Tigers—none will stand against her magic sword. The fools who want Ramsey’s wealth will fall. Even if no one believes me now, I will only gain from this.
Cooling his head, Fraus stepped outside.
The camp was on a raised hill surrounded by marshland, the cool breeze slicing through the summer night. Perfect to clear his mind.
(Has Father returned yet?) Fraus glanced toward the large tent deep inside the camp.
Arminus had set out to ambush Lord Kian in the marshes, but had returned empty-handed after being deceived by Malbodous of the Steel Tigers and Kakaka of the Cat Beastmen.
Fraus had doubted his father’s mind was slipping, but then damning evidence linking Kakaka to the enemy was found in Kakaka’s own tent. That forced the chiefs to acknowledge Arminus’ claim.
Still, it made no sense. If Malbodous and Kakaka wanted to stop the assassination, why wait until after arriving at the marsh? Why leave incriminating evidence behind?
The chiefs seemed to suspect Arminus, but treated him like a wild card.
Natra and Lord Kian’s magicians worry me, but we have three thousand warriors. The enemy barely over a hundred. Even with heavy losses, we will win.
Father… Arminus is no longer needed.
Once Fraus became chief, the thought of Arminus—who could live forever—shadowing him was a headache.
It was fine to use his father in crises, but if he stayed powerful, he’d be a thorn in Fraus’ side.
Is there a way to use this chaos to edge Father out of power…?
Lost in thought in the outhouse, Fraus suddenly caught the sound of many footsteps crossing the camp’s fence, landing softly on wet earth.
”…?”
He finished and slipped out.
The footsteps headed toward Arminus’ tent, passing the loud warriors still reveling near the campfire.
In an instant, Fraus switched gears, killing his presence like a shadow, sliding low and silent through the tents.
No doubt—they were intruders.
Steel Tigers or Cat Beastmen.
Their target was clear: Arminus’ magic sword, Balmung.
That sword was not only powerful—it was tailored against both Arminus and Fraus.
Who sent the thieves? Maybe Malbodous, to protect his brother Marcomanni. Or maybe the cats wanted revenge after Kakaka was sentenced.
Fraus had predicted this attack long ago, since Arminus was often away at the council camp.
The chiefs had ignored his warnings.
Fraus had no intention of saving his father—under house arrest after all—but the sword was a threat to him too. It couldn’t be stolen.
The walk from the outhouse to Arminus’ tent was long. Fraus heard the scrape of steel on steel carried on the night wind.
The thieves had begun rifling through the gear.
He slipped through empty tents, then paused at the entrance to Arminus’ tent, nose twitching.
What was that sweet smell? Like incense from the East.
A tactic to mask their scent? Could be poison, but Fraus was dragon-kin—resistant to most toxins.
Ignoring it, he burst into the tent.
Inside, three shadowy figures, faces wrapped in black cloth, were stripping Arminus’ armor and lifting Balmung off the stand.
The thieves smelled like Cat Beastmen.
They froze, startled to find Fraus standing there.
”You came to steal my father’s gear,” Fraus said tensely, shoulders coiled.
The three thieves tossed the wrapped weapons to the ground, eyes hollow, then slowly drew their daggers.
Fraus narrowed his eyes.
”Are you crazy? Even three against me won’t win. Surrender now—wait.”
He glanced behind quickly—no backup around.
They hesitated, awkward, like puppets holding their pose.
”Let’s make a deal. Break that sword—Balmung—it’s nothing but trouble just by existing. If you do, I’ll let you live.”
The sword’s power could be rivaled by a dragon’s breath. But Balmung was dangerous only to Fraus.
This was his chance.
Of course, once they broke it, he’d crush their bones to dust. No words from the dead.
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* * *
Fraus smiled calmly, almost gently.
”What’s wrong? No choice, right? Strengthen yourselves and break the sword. If you do, I’ll let you go. You get the sword from my father, too,” he said, voice low but steady.
The three cat Beastmen exchanged hesitant glances. With knives drawn, they stepped forward unsteadily.
Fraus tensed his thigh muscles, ready to strike. If they came any closer, he’d snap their necks in a heartbeat.
Though he’d just been drinking and was currently unarmed, Fraus knew—if he wanted, he could finish this fight with one arm. His eyes caught the right foot of the closest cat Beastman stepping forward, pushing off the ground to leap.
But then—shock. His eyes widened.
The bellies of all three cat Beastmen suddenly ballooned, swelling out like water-filled leather pouches, pushing grotesquely towards him.
Fraus didn’t have the Wolfman’s future sight, but danger screamed at him.
He threw himself sideways, rolling away just as their swollen bellies exploded with a sickening wetness. A rain of red liquid mixed with guts splattered everywhere.
”…What the hell…?” Fraus thought, stunned.
Before he could react, a foot appeared from nowhere—silent, pure white—and kicked his head.
Fraus tried to crawl away on his arms, but the foot moved unnaturally, tracing his face with precise, lethal intent.
The impact felt like his brain was shaken loose. No, it was gouged out.
His face was crushed under the black boots of the attacker, which shattered and broke, splattering fresh bright red blood over them both.
”────!” The woman gasped in pain, leaping back.
Fraus felt one of the ice scales embedded in his body crack. Simultaneously, an enormous surge of magic flowed up from the ground, flooding his body.
The moment he realized he’d been killed—the impossible happened. Both he and the female assassin recovered their stance, glaring at each other inside the blood-soaked tent.
Fraus wiped the blood from his eyes roughly with his arm. The woman’s yellow eyes burned with murderous intent.
She had black hair, pale skin, and wore a black Eastern-style dress. A creepy white mask covered her face.
Fraus recognized the scent—”Lord Kian’s Head Magician, huh,” he muttered. “I saw her at the ancient temple negotiations.”
She said nothing.
”So, you came to assassinate me,” Fraus said, eyes narrowing.
His mind raced, trying to understand the technique that had just killed him. His father fought this woman too but never shared a single detail.
No matter. No matter how mysterious her skills were, she was just a human.
Fraus had secretly tested her reaction speed before—they were sure she ranked below Lord Kian. Breaking her neck would be easy.
Now she was cornered after her failed surprise attack with the cat Beastmen.
(I want her alive if possible.) he thought, watching the broken foot on her boot regenerate at an incredible speed.
But keeping her prisoner would be hard.
He’d been killed once already. Fraus only had two revives left. Three deaths meant game over.
If she had Balmung with her, things could get messy.
(No dragon form. It’d only make me a bigger target. If Balmung strikes while I’m paralyzed, that’s it for me.)
Even now, Arminus’s annoying advice rang in his head. They had insisted breaking Balmung early, but their father never listened.
”Heh—” Fraus exhaled softly and pushed off the ground.
He melted into the darkness of the blood-stained tent, moving like a shadow.
Circling behind the woman, he reached out toward her head. Given her reaction speed, his strike should have been unavoidable.
But she teleported a short distance away, dodging just in time.
Reflexively, Fraus twisted his body to protect his neck—but before he could react, her hand swept across it.
With a sickening tear, his major nerves and blood vessels were ripped apart. Fraus crumpled silently, feeling another scale shatter.
”────っ”
Without hesitation, he chose to flee.
Questions about why he lost or the mystery of her speed waited for later. His pride was irrelevant now.
The pride of a warrior was light compared to life.
As long as he lived, his scales would regenerate. He’d come back stronger to take revenge.
A magician could investigate her mysterious Penetration skill and find a way to counter it.
Fraus tumbled forward, rolling out of the tent.
But as soon as he broke outside, a flash of steel cut his neck clean in one swift motion.
His third death.
”…! You, Natra!” he gasped, as blood cords formed between his severed head and body, beginning to regenerate.
But he had no scales left. Fraus collapsed to his knees, looking up at the face of the Azraelian girl.
Behind him, heavy footsteps approached. The Eastern woman with Balmung in hand was closing in, like death itself.
”Wait. You can understand if we talk. If you kill me, my father won’t stay silent. There’s a better deal. If you let me go here—” Fraus tried to speak.
Before he finished, Balmung’s blade severed his head from behind again.
No regeneration. No second chance.
His consciousness slipped into endless darkness.
Fraus, born a dragon, had never feared death before.
But now, primal fear—long numb—awakened in his mind.
* * *
”Human blast bomb. Impressive,” Natra said, sheathing her thorned magic sword.
She looked at the beautiful woman standing opposite her.
Linca, the Eastern beauty who had delivered the final blow, summoned Mizuchi calmly.
”I don’t like using such methods,” Linca said quietly, “but when the opponent refuses to negotiate, there’s no choice. In war, mercy means losing.”
”True. But if possible, I would have preferred to fight him one-on-one,” Natra admitted.
”A warrior monk is not a gladiator,” Linca replied.
”What I mean is, I wanted to fight as a martial artist, not a warrior monk.”
”Natra, you’re unusual.”
”Yes.”
Linca had Mizuchi swallow the bodies of Balmung and Fraus, wrapped in cloth, then drove the white serpent’s head away.
She summoned Nue and jumped onto its back.
Natra quickly erased their footprints with magic.
The only signs left behind were the bloodied corpses of the cat Beastmen and a massive pool of Fraus’s blood.
Arminus’s accusations against the cat Beastmen Kaka would only deepen the rift between the black panther clan and the cat Beastmen.
Natra and Linca soared upward on Nue’s back, reaching high altitude.
Below, the black panther warriors gathered around a campfire, their shadows small as ants.
”No matter how strong each individual is, if their hearts are scattered, they’re no better than a mob,” Linca muttered.
Passing over the black panther camp into the steel tiger’s airspace, Linca spoke softly.
Natra, riding behind her, nodded once.
”If they’d properly guarded General Fraus, this wouldn’t have happened.”
”Feels like watching a cautionary tale,” Linca said. “Let’s get along too, Natra.”
”Getting along… I think it’s enough if we communicate as colleagues. I don’t plan to become close,” Natra replied flatly.
”So cold. You could open your heart a little.”
”────”
Natra said nothing, ignoring the teasing.
Linca faced forward, silent for a moment.
Then Natra spoke slowly.
”As long as I don’t understand your intentions, I won’t open my heart.”
”Intentions?”
”Yes. Why do you follow Lord Kian? You were once Lord Jibril’s confidant—it’s impossible you suddenly switched sides.”
”I don’t think it’s impossible,” Linca said with a wry smile.
”After all, I serve Lord Kian now.”
”If I were you, even if Lord Jibril abandoned me, I would serve my master till the end.”
”You’re stubborn. I’m not that kind of person. I prioritize my own happiness. My relationship with Lord Jibril was just boss and employee. He wanted it that way, so no matter what I or others said, it never became anything more. If it stayed just that, once fired, we’d be strangers. At best, I’d just not want to hold grudges against someone who helped me once.”
”How heartless.”
”That’s harsh. I’m just giving back what I get. To those who don’t love me, I return the same.”
”So, if Lord Kian abandons you, will you betray him?”
Natra’s voice lowered.
Linca laughed brightly, “Ahaha! Lord Kian isn’t the kind of person to abandon me. You should know that well, right?”
”…I see. My lord is troublesome.”
Linca shook her head faintly at Natra’s muttering.
”He’s big-hearted. Though he has strangely childlike traits.”
”I agree.”
”Oh, finally we agree on something.”
”────”
”Well, I won’t give up Lord Kian. Even if we ended up in a harem together, the first is not you or Ms. Sarah, but me.”
”Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll ever like you.”
”I don’t dislike that straightforward part of you.”
Linca flicked Nue’s reins, speeding up.
Notes:
• Fraus – Male. Son of Arminus. Member of the Black Panther Tribe. Shares his father’s enhanced physical abilities and combat prowess. Relationship: Subordinate and family to Arminus.
• Arminus – Male. Leader of the Black Panther Tribe. Possesses extraordinary physical abilities, enhanced by the tribe’s unique technique that repels energy and magic attacks. His speed and strength surpass those of High Warlord Isthbaran. Wields the magic sword Balmung, capable of cleaving through an ice dragon with a single strike. His black fur provides camouflage in low visibility, making him nearly undetectable. Relationship: Leader of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Malbodous – Male. Member of the Steel Tiger Clan. A formidable warrior with significant combat experience. Relationship: Part of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Kakaka – Male. Top warrior of the Cat Beastmen Tribe. Known for his agility and precision in combat. Relationship: Part of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Marcomanni – Male. Member of the Steel Tiger Clan. Known for his strength and tactical skills. Relationship: Part of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Nue – A Shikigami summoned by Linca. It has the appearance of a monster with a tiger’s limbs and a monkey’s head. Nue is a powerful but dangerous creature that requires a skilled magician to control.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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